Our banners shall be glorious! Think of that
Alone, and leave all other thoughts to me,
Whose youth may better battle with them-Hence!
And may your age be happy!-I will kiss

My mother once more, then Heaven's speed be with you! WER. This counsel's safe-but is it honourable?

ULR. To save a father is a child's chief honour.

K

VOL. XI.

[Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

A Gothic Hall in the Castle of Siegendorf, near

Prague.

Enter ERIC and HENRICK, retainers of the Count.

ERIC. So better times are come at last; to these

Old walls new masters and high wassail, both
A long desideratum.

It might be unto those who long for novelty,
Though made by a new grave: but as for wassail,

Methinks the old Count Siegendorf maintain'd
His feudal hospitality as high

As e'er another prince of the empire.

ERIC.

Why,

For the mere cup and trencher, we no doubt
Fared passing well; but as for merriment

And sport, without which salt and sauces season

The cheer but scantily, our sizings were

Even of the narrowest.

HEN.

The old count loved not

The roar of revel; are you sure that this does?

ERIC. As yet he hath been courteous as he's boun

teous,

And we all love him.

HEN.

His reign is as yet

Hardly a year o'erpast its honey-moon,
And the first year of sovereigns is bridal;

Anon, we shall perceive his real sway

And moods of mind.

ERIC.

Pray heaven, he keep the present!

Then his brave son, Count Ulric-there's a knight!

And strong and beautiful as a young tiger.

ERIC. That's not a faithful vassal's likeness.

HEN.

Perhaps a true one.

But

The wars are over: in the hall, who like

Count Ulric for a well-supported pride,

Which awes but yet offends not? in the field,

Who like him with his spear in hand, when, gnashing His tusks, and ripping up from right to left

The howling hounds, the boar makes for the thicket? Who backs a horse, or bears a hawk, or wears

A sword like him? Whose plume nods knightlier? HEN. No one's, I grant you: do not fear, if War Be long in coming, he is of that kind

Will make it for himself, if he hath not

Already done as much.

ERIC.

What do you mean?

HEN. You can't deny his train of followers (But few our native fellow vassals born

On the domain) are such a sort of knaves

HEN. The wars (you love so much) leaves living; Like other Parents, She spoils her worst children. ERIC. Nonsense! they are all brave iron-visaged fellows,

Such as old Tilly loved.